


BANG BANG

by STOPiamreading



Category: YouTube- Markiplier, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Dark is your wingman, Dark ships it, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mark Fischbach Egos, Mentions of Murder, Mild Innuendo, Mild Language, Oneshot, Other, POV Second Person, Revolvers, Romance, Second Person, Suggestive Themes, Voyeurism mention, Wilford teaches you how to use a gun, and he's a theatre nerd, crime mention, firearms, gun - Freeform, mentions of law breaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STOPiamreading/pseuds/STOPiamreading
Summary: Wilford Warfstache teaches you how to use a Taurus Raging Bull revolver. You get shot, but rather than the gun it's Cupid's arrows because nothing screams "I love you" better than some quality time and some target practice. Also starring Dark as your wingman!Basically the Bang Bang animation meme with Wilford "shooting" You.
Relationships: Wilford Warfstache and Reader, Wilford Warfstache and Y/N, Wilford Warfstache and You, Wilford Warfstache x Reader, Wilford Warfstache x Y/N, Wilford Warfstache x You, Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel/Other(s), Wilford Warfstache/Reader, Wilford Warfstache/Y/N, Wilford Warfstache/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	BANG BANG

**Author's Note:**

> Most stories with MC learning how to do guns usually focuses on sexual tension, but this one just has an excessive amount of Gun Tips instead. I swear the FBI's gonna come knocking on my door after all the weapons research I did. That being said, I don't know a single thing about firearms/revolvers, so take everything with a grain of salt. Don't try this at home.

You relax in the living room of Markiplier (Ego) Manor, scrolling through YouTube on your phone and lounging on the sofa. It was uncharacteristically quiet because most of the egos were off doing their own thing that lazy Saturday morning. 

Dark sits in an old high-backed armchair silently reading The Count of Monte Cristo in one hand (for "inspiration", he said). He seems to enjoy the relaxing silence and you're glad the two of you were able to get a break. Your most recent Markiplier video gets interrupted by the loud bang coming from outside. You jump, yanking the earbuds off and glance at Dark with a wide-eyed expression. He doesn't flinch.

"What was that?" you half-screech, "That sounded like gunfire!"

"That would be Wilford. He does target practice every weekend, I'm surprised you haven't noticed. Why else do you think everyone has left?" Dark replies nonchalantly, flipping a page.

Your heartbeat flutters at the name. Wil's bubbly attitude, fun-loving disposition, gentlemanly ways, and old timey accent all added to the interest of the eccentric man. He was also a bit of a flirt and never passed an opportunity to tease and make you flustered. There was just something about him... Dark sighs, breaking you out of your stupor.

"You look like a lovesick fool. Go. Take the hallway to your right, there's a glass door that leads to the backyard. You'll be able to gawk at him all you want from there," Dark says simply, looking up from his book.

Your face flushes. Were you that obvious? You shove your phone and earbuds into your pockets, preparing to follow Dark's advice. 

"Thanks Dark, you're the best," you exclaim, racing to the hallway on the right and shooting Dark a cheeky smirk.

"I'm well aware of that," he replies matter of factly, continuing his book with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

* * *

You stare in awe at Wilford shooting the circular target with a marksman's ability. Even under his cream colored button down, you could see the flex of his biceps as the recoil hits with a resounding bang. There is something hypnotic about the predatory look of his eyes as he fires the large revolver. His face looks serene and surprisingly at ease with the weapon in hand. You notice that there's a hint something pensive and nostalgic in his gaze, as if the act of firing was a personal affair, rather than the cool detachment of most gunmen. Wil's movements are fluid and casual, the weapon becoming a mere extension of his hand. It was rare to see Wilford so focused instead of his usual, more scattered self. 

You are mesmerized, unconsciously leaning closer to get a closer look. Your forehead hits the glass sliding door with a hard tap. Suddenly Wilford whirls around, gun pointed in your direction. You yelp, jumping backwards with your hands up in surrender.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" You scream, squeezing your eyes tight and waving your hands frantically in front of you.

Silence. You slowly peek your eyes open. Wilford knocks on the other side of the glass, wiggling a finger to gesture you towards him. His beaming smile is a sharp contrast from his previous contemplative expression; he looks like a completely different person. You calm down, now that the gun was safely out of your face. He then points to the doorknob. You walk towards it and notice that the sliding door was locked from the inside. You wonder how Wilford got out in the first place and whether or not someone locked him out.

You swiftly unlock the door and slide it open, then closing it behind you with a click. The sharp scent of gunpowder permeates the outside air and you're thankful for the warm, sunny weather. Even better than that was Wilford, who seems to completely ignore the fact that he nearly killed you.

"Well aren't you a little voyeur! Y'know, most people would have to pay to see that level of entertainment! Consider yourself lucky that I'm not charging you," Wilford laughs, putting his gunned hand on his hip.

"Wil, you almost shot me. Shouldn't safety be your number one priority?" You grumble with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

Wilford chuckles, not taking you seriously. "Fun first, safety second, as I always say."

You disregard the fact that you've never heard him say anything of the sort with an eyeroll. However you can't help but smile at his lightheartedness, even though his lack of gun safety was a serious issue. It's worrying how easy it would be for someone to get hurt by Wilford's hand with his casual gun-waving tendencies and scary reflexes. You realize that whichever ego that may have locked him out of the house was completely justified in their actions. Wilford gently opens the cylinder of the gun and then closes it.

"There's one more round left in here. How'd you fancy a private lesson taught by yours truly? You're the only one I could have any fun with! Pleease, Y/N?" Wilford pleads eagerly.

You imagine that he was holding himself back from bouncing up and down like a giddy child. You're touched that he actually wants to spend time with you and sincerely hope that no one was going to get hurt from your decision. 

"Okay."

"Wonderful! Let's go!" Wilford shouts, grabbing your hand and running closer to the target.

You let him lead the way, marveling at the feeling of his hand wrapped around yours. It's thick with muscle and slightly weathered. You imagine that they were pretty strong, especially considering his prowess in gunmanship. He must be good with his hands.

Wilford lets your hand go a distance away from the series of concentric circles. You mourn the loss of the physical contact with a slight frown. In your now-empty hand he places the gun, startling you out of your trance. 

"This is Baby! Baby meet Y/N, Y/N meet Baby. I want you to get used to how she feels in your hand, get acquainted a bit!" he exclaims as you fumble to try and not drop the gun.

It's heavier than you imagined at around three pounds and a foot of metal. The shiny barrel and black handle is still warm from Wilford using it. You cautiously turn it over in your hand, remembering that only a minute ago you almost got shot by "Baby". The five chamber cylinder reminds you of an old-timey movie and suits Wilford's retro aesthetic well.

"What kind of gun is it?" you ask.

Wilford seems to expect the question and his face lights up. He starts ranting with passion, gesturing his hands exuberantly and waving his arms in grandiose motions. His pink mustache moves around madly on his face from his fast paced rambling. You have no idea what he's saying because of the jargon and the intensified accent, but his enthusiasm is clear to be seen. 

"She's a Taurus Raging Bull single-action revolver with a .454 Casull cartridge- the "Raging Bull" part because Baby can even kill a Cape Buffalo, which really brings me back to my safari days! Just look at that ported muzzle and top rib and _of course_ the stainless steel barrel. I polish Baby every day to make her shine! They don't make as many fun shootys like these nowadays. I even tried to make the case with an old detective pal of mine and the neighborhood police, y'know? Give 'em a few examples of how Baby worked so they'll be so astounded they'll get their very own! Of course, they didn't like the display as much as I did and chased me around screaming 'murderer' and the like, I'm sure you know how it is. I think they were just jealous, those scamps. I'm sure you'll love her, and even if you don't, I have an entire collection for us to test out together! Or maybe you'd like shivs more, though those are more Yan and the Glitch Bitch's specialty."

Wilford pauses his spiel and frowns at your unresponsive state. "Well shit, I've been blabbing my mouth off and I haven't even taught my prized pupil yet! Time's a wasting! You should have told me, darling!"

Heat rises to your cheeks at the term of endearment. You never got used to it, no matter how many times Wilford should have desensitized you from his various displays of affection. You smile with a soft laugh at the sight of his childish pout, "It's cute when you're excited."

Wilford gasps. "Hey, that's my line! It's even cuter that you're such an eager lil student, aren't chu," he babbles in a childish voice. 

He taps the tip of your nose with an audible "boop!" and giggles to himself. Wilford then sees your deadpan expression. He awkwardly clears his throat.

"Ah, yes, I still have to teach you about how to use Baby! Okay, first off, stand shoulder-width apart for balance, it'll make the aiming easier. That and you wanna be firmly planted on the ground to prepare for the recoil, which is probably gonna push you back a little, 'specially in the hands and arms. Now, Baby's got a tad bit more kick and is a bit louder than typical gun, kinda like me if you know what I'm sayin'. And because of the muzzle break there's less flip so the recoil goes straight back into your hands. And- hey, look at you, you're already doing it!"

You've been standing shoulder-width apart the entire time with your dominant hand around the handle and the muzzle safely pointed to the ground. 

"Wil, the safety wasn't on."

Wilford chuckles, "Wow, a pretty face _and_ pretty smart too, I like it! And what's life without a lil danger? You got this part right for the most part," he says, lifting your hands and the gun up so it's parallel to the ground and downrange towards the target, "but move your hand up a bit higher on the grip so your thumb wraps around to the other side. The lower your hands, the more the kick's gonna push Baby up instead of back and make it harder to re-aim. And keep your trigger finger _not_ on the trigger until you're ready to shoot, put it on the guard for now."

You do as Wilford says, surprised as his extensive knowledge and patience in teaching. You actually found yourself actually becoming interested in what he was saying. Maybe it was that charming TV-personality voice or just his passion on the subject that did you in. You hope that the newfound intrigue in the weapon doesn't awaken something in you.

"Good job! Okay, now put your other hand around the side for support."

You wrap your non dominant hand around the bottom of the grip. Wilford walks around to your other side to examine your grip.

"Move it up a lil higher and it'll be perfect, having your hand low the way it is now won't help in keeping your hands steady. May I?" Wilford asks, gesturing to your hand.

You nod affirmatively. A flirt that still maintained personal boundaries? Who would have thought? He shifts your non dominant hand up the grip so your thumb is on top of the thumb of your dominant hand. 

"Nice, you're a fast learner! Here, bring your hands up to eye level and straighten your arms- that's it, just don't lock your elbows, stay loose but y'know, not _too_ loose. Being all rigid and uptight's Dark's job," Wilford laughs, nudging your arm so it's in line with your dominant eye. 

You don't feel like reminding him that Dark was the same guy you saw humming tunes from Jekyll and Hyde the musical as he was making coffee that morning when he thought no one was around. But you guess that compared to Wilford, almost everyone would seem more tense from his point of view. It was always entertaining to watch how strangers would react to Wilford's larger than life personality in interviews. You're interrupted from your thoughts by the man in question.

"Cock Baby."

"W-what?"

"The gun. Use your thumb to pull the hammer back until you hear the second click. Now normally I'd be insulted that you were distracted from me tryin'a teach you, but I'll let it slide 'cause you've been a good student so far," Wilford says on mock annoyance, either unaware of or purposely not addressing what sounded like a blunt innuendo.

You cock the gun with your face on fire from embarrassment. You keep your gaze on the target so you don't make eye contact with Wilford; you don't want him to see how flustered you were. "Probably because I have such a good teacher," you mutter back in response.

"Aww stop, you're making me blush," Wilford gushes, about to playfully swat your arm and then reconsiders it upon seeing your ready stance and the large weapon in your hand. "This next bit's gonna be real long, so listen closely and learn while I monologue a bit. Make sense?" 

You nod and Wilford directs your actions with his words.

"There're two sights, the front 'blade' and the rear 'notch' closer to your face. The front sight's so you don't veer left or right of the target and the rear one's for up and down. You wanna move so the front sight is on the that middle circle over there and in between the notch. Perfect, you could keep both eyes open or only your dominant one, whichever's more comfortable. Personally I leave both my peepers open unless it's long distance, but you do you. Keep your focus on the front sight, even if the target's unfocused, trust that you've got it aligned. Shifting your gaze and moving would mess up your aim and then, I dunno, you might accidentally shoot somebody off a staircase or somethin'… Trigger! That's what's next! Now you could put your index finger on the trigger, but don't put any pressure yet. Here, move your finger a bit more so it's on your fingerpad, not the joint of your first knuckle- I know, the movies were wrong about that. Lock your wrists and tense your forearms to absorb the recoil, but don't panic and tense up completely or it's a sure miss. Breathe, don't hold your breath when you shoot. Gently pull the trigger after you breathe out and are about to inhale again. Just aim, breathe, and _fire_."

The rush hits you hard. Your ears ring after the loud bang and the smell of gunpowder wafts into your nose. Even after Wilford's detailed explanations, nothing could compare to the sheer sudden force of the recoil, catching you off guard. You blink blearily at the target; you could have sworn that you saw some dark shadowy tendrils there the minute you fired. You lower the now-empty Baby and stagger backwards slightly until you feel strong hands securely rest on your waist and shoulder.

You're hit with a completely different kind of rush when you realize your back was firmly pressed into Wilford's chest. His grip lessens from you but he doesn't remove his hands. 

"Wow, I'm impressed," Wilford breathes in awe, "You looked just like one'a those beautiful Renaissance statues of the gods, all action and grace."

The genuine nature of the compliment sends you reeling. It hit differently than the casual back and forth teasing between the two of you. You blame your increased heartbeat on shock from the gun's recoil.

"T-thanks," you manage to stutter out as Wilford lets you go with an atypically soft smile.

He then squints at the target from over your shoulder. "C'mon, let's see where you hit it!"

Wilford grabs your free hand and pulls you along to the circular target. The feeling of your hand intertwined with his was quickly becoming one of your favorite feelings. You could get used to this, maybe even the target practice included if it meant spending quality time with the man (it was admittedly more interesting than you originally thought, especially when he was teaching you).

The two of you stand in front of the concentric circles on the wood. There are already several holes littering the board from Wilford's previous hits.

"Holy shit, Y/N!" he yells, pointing to one of the holes in the center, "This one's yours!"

You stare at the clean puncture in disbelief. Judging from your reaction to the kick, you were sure that your aim would have faltered a bit.

"I'm sure it's just beginner's luck?" You wonder aloud as you examined the target closer. Maybe that strange black haze had something to do with it?

"Nonsense, you're a natural! Just think, soon enough it'll be the two of us partners in crime against the world! Only if you want to, of course. This lifestyle isn't for everyone I know, but you've got so much potential! If you could hit a bullseye on your first try, who knows what you could do after a few more!" Wilford exclaims, this time actually bouncing up and down in place.

"I'll think about it," you laugh, motioning to give the gun back. Wilford puts his hand on top of yours and pushes it back towards you. 

“Keep it,” he say fondly with a proud smile. 

“What? I-I can’t! This is your Baby!”

“No, _you’re_ my baby. You'll need something to practice with! I'll get all the other goodies that you'll need back in the house, if you want. Or she could be a keepsake as a reminder of your accomplishment! I trust you’ll take good care of her either way.” 

The gesture carried a lot of weight. You know that the gun means a lot to Wilford and it wasn't something he would part with easily, not unless he trusted you completely to care for what was one of his prized possessions. That shocks you to the core; you never knew that Wilford cared about you that much. 

"I'm flattered, but I don't think I can accept this, Baby's one of your favorites! At least take me out first," you joke to ease your thoughts somewhat.

"That can be arranged," Wilford chuckles, licking his lips.

You roll your eyes and briefly spare a glance back at the glass doorway where you came out from. To your surprise, you see Dark standing on the other side of it with his hands clasped behind his back. Was he the one that locked Wilford out in the first place? How long was he standing there? Dark smirks knowingly and presses an index finger to his lips, warning you not to alert Wilford of his presence. You roll your eyes. And Wilford thought _you_ were the voyeur? You weren't going to ask. 

Suddenly you remember the mysterious smoke that you saw after firing the gun. You playfully flip Dark off behind your back and you could almost hear him chuckle in response. You never took him to be the type to play wingman, but you still wanted to know whether or not you would have gotten the bullseye without his interference. Still, the intention was there and you were thankful for Dark's support, you supposed.

“Now let’s celebrate and go out on the town, test out your new skills! Imagine the two of us, guns a' blazing, wreaking havoc, getting free food: it’ll be the perfect date!” Wilford exclaims, clasping a hand on your shoulder.

“Wil, no! I’m not going to kill people!” 

“It won't _kill_ them, it'll just permanently incapacitate them! But if you insist, let’s go out and get a big ol' ice cream cone, my treat.” 

You subtly glance back at the glass door. Dark winks back at you. _Go_ , you see him mouth from the other side of the glass, shooing you off.

“…Fine,” you say with a mock pout and handing Baby back to Wilford again, “But no guns. I don’t want to worry Dark.”

Wilford's eyebrows raise in amusement at the mention of Dark's name. 

“Whatever you say, darlin'," he chuckles, putting the gun behind his back and into whatever pocket dimension he had there. 

He takes your hand again, leading you off the property. Wil suggests a ton of different ice cream places for you to choose from but you're distracted by the warm glow of the sunlight shining onto his wavy hair and his stunning smile in your direction. Your breath catches. It almost looks as though light radiates off of him: ethereal, yet his hand around yours felt solid and real. With the pink and pastel colors, you imagine Wilford to be a modern day Cupid with guns instead of bows, and bullets instead of arrows. You're pretty damn sure that the gunslinging Eros shooting you is the only possible explanation for your captivation with him.

"So where'd you wanna go?"

"Wherever you are."

"Soo... Ben and Jerry's then?"

**Author's Note:**

> Plot twist: Dark's the real "Cupid" for shipping and low-key setting you and Wilford up.


End file.
